


Nightmares And Break Ins

by WardenRoot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Nightmares, Pre-Relationship, set sometime during s7, soft, the Gay™ activity of patching someone up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22684924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenRoot/pseuds/WardenRoot
Summary: Pushing open the door as quietly as she can, she readies herself to scream. She almost does, when she spots a dark silhouette in the middle of her living room, but just barely manages to stop herself when the form turns around, revealing a barely distinguishable yet familiar face.“Oh, this better be good.” Laurel crosses her arms in front of her chest, waiting to hear why Dinah Drake of all people has decided to break into her apartment.orSomeone unexpected breaks into Laurel's apartment in the middle of the night.
Relationships: Dinah Drake/Earth-2 Laurel Lance
Comments: 12
Kudos: 112





	Nightmares And Break Ins

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @Starling83 for betaing this ♥

Laurel wakes up with a scream. She looks around herself frantically, taking account of where she is as her heart races.  _ She’s in her room _ . Everything is fine. It was just a bad dream.

_ Thud. _

Laurel’s eyes shoot to her bedroom door, and she is certain she heard a noise somewhere on the other side. She sharpens her ears, panic boiling underneath her skin as her nightmare and reality mix. One second goes by and everything stays quiet. Two seconds pass and Laurel thinks she must have imagined it, still shaken by her dreams. The third second passes and—  _ Was that a footstep? _

Carefully slipping out of bed, Laurel keeps her eyes trained on the door. She tries to tell herself that Diaz is dead, Prometheus died trying to blow them all up, and Cayden James was killed by Diaz. And still, the unmistakable sound of another presence in her apartment has anxiety spiking in her stomach, something irrational screaming at her that one of them — or all three — have come back to haunt her. But Laurel refuses to let anyone use her again.

Pushing open the door as quietly as she can, she readies herself to scream. She almost does, when she spots a dark silhouette in the middle of her living room, but just barely manages to stop herself when the form turns around, revealing a barely distinguishable yet familiar face.

“Oh, this better be good.” Laurel crosses her arms in front of her chest, waiting to hear why  _ Dinah Drake _ of all people has decided to break into her apartment.

“I can explain,” Dinah says, looking between Laurel and the open window. As she waits for the explanation, Laurel hurries over to the window. Still unable to shake her nightmare, she doesn’t dare leave herself vulnerable, swiftly closing the window and turning on the light. “I came over to see if you wanted to confess to any crimes, make my day a little easier?”

“Funny,” Laurel says drily, looking back at her intruder. “Now if you’re done  _ harassing _ the DA—” Laurel stops mid-sentence, noticing Dinah’s hand shoot up to her side. Laurel narrows her eyes, only to widen them just a little when she notices the dark specks of dried blood on Dinah’s Canary suit. “What’s that?” Laurel asks, taking a subconscious step closer.

“It’s nothing,” Dinah insists, flattening her palm to cover it better.

“You getting  _ blood _ on my furniture isn’t nothing,” Laurel scoffs. Figures Dinah would not only bother her in the middle of the night but make it as inconvenient as possible.

“It’s so touching to hear that you care,” Dinah huffs, but the action causes her to press harder against her wound.

“Bathroom,” Laurel orders, nodding her head in its direction.

“I’m fine,” Dinah starts to protest, but Laurel cuts her off.

“Now!” she says, not in the mood for an argument. If Dinah is going to show up bleeding in Laurel’s apartment completely unannounced, she will damned well do as Laurel says.

Dinah grumbles something under her breath, but ever so slowly turns around and trudges towards the bathroom. Laurel rolls her eyes, throwing a look over her shoulder as she follows.

“Sit,” she says when they reach their destination, pointing at the closed toilet.

“If you just show me where your first aid kit is, I can patch myself up. The last thing I want to do is take up any of your valuable time.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The last thing I need is Oliver yelling at me because you got an infection from stitching yourself up in the middle of bleeding to death in my apartment. Now _ sit _ .” Laurel glares at her, willing her to do as told. Dinah stands her ground a few seconds longer, before another flash of pain visibly shoots through her and she gives in, finally sitting down.

It doesn’t take Laurel long to locate her first aid kit, and soon enough she is kneeling down in front of Dinah. She frowns when she is met with Dinah’s hand still clutching her wound. She reaches out for the hand, needing it moved to even begin to assess the situation. Dinah fights it at first, pulling her hand back with much more strength than Laurel anticipates, and just for a second, Dinah’s hand changes into Diaz’s, but instead of clutching a wound, it is clutching Laurel’s neck.

“Are you okay?” Dinah asks, her voice curious and, maybe, just a little worried.

“I’ll be fine when you stop being such a child and move your hand,” Laurel shoots back, shaking off the bad memory as she forces her frozen fingers to move again and her breathing to come normally. Dinah lets her guide her hand away this time, and Laurel can finally look at the wound. With a sigh, she gestures to Dinah’s torso and says, “I can’t do anything with this on.”

Dinah looks at her skeptically, but thankfully decides not to fight it. She skillfully eases out of the leather, only pausing a couple of times due to what Laurel assumes to be more shots of pain from her wound. Laurel watches silently as the leather falls away, revealing light brown arms. She swallows as she takes them in, finding herself completely distracted from her original goal. Dinah shifts impatiently, and Laurel forces her eyes back to her stomach, where black cloth is half covering the wound.

With deft fingers, Laurel carefully lifts Dinah’s tank top, rolling it up her stomach. She’s hit with another wave of…  _ something _ as the dark material comes away to unveil toned abs.  _ Does she have to be so well trained? _ Laurel pushes the thought away. She is  _ not _ attracted to Dinah Drake of all people.

Eager to busy herself, she fetches the cotton balls and alcohol from the kit, pouring some of the latter onto the former. “This’ll sting,” she says, bringing the cotton up to Dinah’s stomach.

“I’ve had worse.” Dinah grits her teeth and Laurel rolls her eyes.

“I would just prefer it if you  _ don’t _ wake up my neighbors.” Laurel does  _ not _ care about Dinah’s comfort, but what she does care about is not losing her very lovely apartment due to noise complaints. And not getting berated by Dinah’s little team for not taking care of her. “Why did you come here, anyway?” Laurel would assume her apartment to be the last place Dinah would want to be.

Dinah stays silent for a little while longer, and Laurel is ready to let it rest and simply finish up in silence. “This was the first place I could think of.” The quiet admission tugs at something in Laurel’s chest. “The bunker is across town,” she adds as a rushed afterthought, and Laurel gets the distinct feeling it hadn’t been part of the initial thought. Which is ridiculous — surely Dinah would only come to her as a last resort.

“So then I got the joy of your company instead.” Laurel offers her an unamused smile.

“You were supposed to be asleep.” Dinah furrows her brow as she looks at her, and there’s that hint of worry again, hidden underneath the surface.

“I was,” Laurel tries, narrowing her eyes as she focuses on cleaning Dinah’s wound. “ _ You _ woke me up.”

“No I didn’t. I heard a scream. I thought it came from somewhere out in the street, but the more I think about it, it was too close, too clear to be something far away.” Laurel can feel Dinah’s gaze still on her, and she has the sudden urge to run and hide from it.

“Don’t be ridiculous. If I’d screamed, you’d know by my door landing on your face.” Laurel chances a glance up at her, but the intensity of those eyes is too much, and she has to look away again right away.

“Not a cry,” Dinah says, exasperation evident in her voice. “A  _ scream. _ ”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t me.” Laurel presses the cotton ball against Dinah’s wound with just a touch more strength than necessary, making Dinah clench her teeth and offer Laurel a merciful few seconds of respite from her line of questioning. Laurel almost jumps when the sudden heat of Dinah’s fingers touch her forehead. “ _ What the hell? _ ”

“Sweat,” is all she says, holding up her wet fingers like a piece of evidence.

“It’s a hot night.”

“No, it’s not.”

Laurel shoots her eyes up to Dinah’s, daring her to continue her accusations. Dinah meets her gaze just as stubbornly.  _ What the hell is it to her how well Laurel sleeps, anyway? _

Silence falls over them again as Laurel exchanges the cotton for a thread and needle. Just before she pierces Dinah’s skin, the silence is broken once more.

“I still have nightmares about Sonus.” The admission is so quiet that Laurel wonders if it was just something she imagined, but the open, vulnerable look on Dinah’s face tells her otherwise. The sudden show of feelings once more makes Laurel want to run away, tugging uncomfortably on her own carefully laid out walls. “He’s been dead for almost two years, but…”

“I have no interest in your pity party.” Laurel clenches her jaw as she pricks Dinah’s skin without warning, wanting this encounter to be over as soon as possible. Dinah doesn’t as much as flinch as the needle works through her skin, and Laurel can’t help but feel the smallest hint of respect for her.

Dinah doesn’t offer her an answer, but that damned intense gaze of hers never leaves Laurel’s form, and in the end, Laurel can’t take it anymore. “Fine,” she reluctantly admits, the word forced out before she can second guess it. “Big, bad Siren had a nightmare. Happy?”

“Laurel.” Where did Dinah get the right to say her name so softly, as if it is something precious? “It’s okay to acknowledge your past and the trauma it left behind.”

“When did you become a therapist?” Laurel asks, throwing more hostility into the question than she feels. 

Instead of dignifying it with an answer, Dinah asks, “Who was it?”

Laurel scoffs. Dinah would have better luck asking who it  _ wasn’t _ . “Take your pick.”

“Is that why you practically ran to the window? Why you looked ready to tear me apart with a sonic wave?”

Laurel can’t bring herself to answer, but as Dinah brings it up, she can’t shake the feeling that ever since she entered the bathroom with Dinah, she hasn’t felt that need to look over her shoulder even once. The revelation shouldn’t fill her with as much warmth as it does.

Searching for anything to offer in reply, relief floods her system when she finishes off stitching Dinah up. “All done,” she says, pressing a bandage over the wound before packing the first aid kit back up. As Dinah fixes her tank, Laurel busies herself with washing her hands.

“Thank you,” Dinah says as she stands up, and the small smile on her lips sends another wave of warmth through Laurel’s body.

“Anything for one of Star City’s finest.” Laurel gives a mock salute, and a mixture of annoyance and something akin to satisfaction fills her as Dinah chuckles in response.

As they walk back out into the living room, Dinah turns to her and says, “I should head back home.”

A chill runs through Laurel at the words, and she finds herself dreading being alone again. “It’s late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Dinah’s lips part slightly and her eyes widen at the suggestion, but then her face softens, and Laurel wishes she’d never opened her mouth at all. “It  _ is _ late,” Dinah agrees, and Laurel is grateful that she doesn’t push or tease Laurel for suggesting it.

Laurel nods. She is about to offer up her couch, but even the thought of staying in her room alone instills a feeling of trepidation in her. So, instead of saying anything at all, she marches into her room, Dinah following behind her wordlessly. She hesitates before getting in bed, glancing at the rest of Dinah’s Canary outfit, looking much too uncomfortable to sleep in. Without a word, she steps up to her drawers and throws a fresh T-shirt and a pair of PJ pants at her.

As she lies down with her back to Dinah, she hears the subtle sounds of Dinah shedding her dirty clothes in favor of the clean ones. The bed dips when Dinah’s weight joins her, and although not unwelcome, it is strange to have another presence in her bed. She has gotten so used to being alone.

Dinah moves close enough that Laurel can feel the heat radiating off her body, but still with a breath of space between them. “Goodnight, Laurel,” she says softly, and Laurel is content to go to sleep right then and there. However, right when her eyes are about to close, her mind draws her attention to the fact that her bed only has one blanket,  _ because of course it does _ . It wouldn’t be a problem if it was a warm night, but, as Dinah pointed out before, this night is anything but.

Sighing, Laurel inches backwards until she feels the brush of Dinah’s hand against her back. “ _ Don’t _ look too deep into this,” she says, lifting the blanket and throwing the edge behind her in hopes that Dinah will get the message. “It simply wouldn’t do for you to freeze to death in my bed after I went through all that effort of patching you up.” 

Dinah doesn’t say anything, but Laurel feels the smile directed at her all the same. A gust of cold air races along her back as Dinah lifts the blanket to put it properly over herself. With the nature of the blanket, Laurel already knows it won’t cover her companion fully in their current position, and so she closes the last few inches between them until she can properly feel Dinah’s body against her back. Dinah hesitates only for a second before wrapping an arm around her and pulling them even closer still. If anyone asks, Laurel only enjoys the closeness due to the warmth Dinah brings to an otherwise cold night.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on tumblr @wardenroot


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